Done!q

[serafina20]

Well, except for revisions. No title, yet, and I have a feeling this scene will get longer in rewrites.



"Mark!" Rebecca Forman said cheerily, opening the screen door. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Hi, Rebecca." He handed her a bottle of wine and a bouquet of roses, feeling a blush on his cheeks. It almost felt like he hadn't stopped blushing all day. "How are you?"

"Busy," she said frankly. "I've been calling and e-mailing people all day, trying to organize a real welcome home dinner for Whitney." She led him inside. "I also took Whitney to physical therapy and he's been talking with the Marines and doctors since he's gotten home." She stopped and put her hand on his shoulder, lowering her voice. "He's been a bit depressed since he got off the phone a few hours ago with some doctor. I think he needs cheering up."

"Um, okay. Thanks for the warning."

She smiled and squeezed his arm. "Small party for dinner. Two of my sisters--including one who said she wasn't going to talk to Whitney after he said he was joining the Marines--and my brother-in-law and his wife and two kids."

"That's small?"

"Compared to what's coming Saturday, yes." She sighed. "Are you going to come on Saturday? Big party, barbecue if the weather holds, family reunion and all."

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. "Are you sure you want me there? I don't want to cause any problems. You know..."

She nodded. "I know. And, ask Whitney. Whatever he wants to do, I'm fine with. Except, I'd rather you not spend the night here. Or, if you do, um..."

"Oh, God!" Now, his face was completely on fire. "No. Of course.... No."

Rebecca smiled and squeezed his shoulder again. "Thanks. Now, you go see Whitney; he's just down the hall on the right. We turned the old family room into a new bedroom for him so he didn't need to worry about the stairs. I'll call you when the company gets here."

"Thanks." He kissed her cheek. "For everything."

"I just want my boy to be happy. And you are such a lovely young man," she said. She kissed him back. "Now go."

Mark did as he was bid and made his way down the hall. As he did, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a rose he'd snagged from the bouquet. It was silly and romantic, but he wanted to have something to give Whitney.

"Hey," he said softly, knocking on the partially open door.

Whitney was lying on a bed across the room. His eyes were closed, but when Mark spoke, they opened and he turned his head towards the door. "Hey," he replied, a smile touching his lips. "Is it six already?"

Mark entered, closing the door behind him as he did. "Yeah." He hesitated a moment, then crossed to the bed. "How are you doing?"

"I'm a two fingered, one legged, one-eyed freak with months of medical procedures ahead of me to continually remind me that I'm a two fingered, one legged, one-eyed freak." He scrubbed his hand over his face. "And now I'm being whiney and annoying to my boyfriend."

He sat on the bed, twirling the rose in his fingers. "You're not being annoying. You can whine to me as much as you want."

"I want to be stronger than this."

Gently, Mark touched Whitney's face with the rose. "You've been so strong for so long and all alone," he whispered, tracing the fine features with the petals. "And I know that you're going to want to stay strong for your mom, too. She's been through a lot, and I know that you don't want to add to that anymore than you have to. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me to let everything go."

Whitney's eyes were closed, fingers digging into the bedspread as Mark ran the rose over his jaw, around his lips, and down his neck. He circled Whitney's Adam's apple once before sliding it down and allowing the rose to rest in the hollow of Whitney's throat.

"It's just... it's a lot more overwhelming than I thought it was going to be," Whitney whispered. "Physical therapy every day, and all these medications so I don't get anything infected. I'm supposed to go see an ophthalmologist next week, and I need to start seeing a psychologist or something, too. Every doctor I've talked to has asked if I'm taking anti-depressants, and I'm starting to wonder if I need to or something. And Mom's having everyone over on Saturday and I'm really freaked out. What if they all treat me differently. Like I'm some cripple or something. Like I'm stupid or that my life is over?"

"Then you tell them what your plans for the future are."

He opened his eyes. "What if I can't cut it in college? What if I'm just fooling myself? I barely scraped through high school, and now I think I can hack social work? That's... God, I can't even think of what they do, that's how stupid I am."

"Whitney, you're panicking. You aren't going to be expected to start working your first day of college. They'll teach you what to do. And you're not stupid."

"How do you know?"

"I've been reading your letters for months. I know you." He kissed Whitney and rested their foreheads together. "Whit, your life is complicated right now. I don't want to add to that complication."

"Oh, God, Mark, I don't know how I'll get through all of this without you." Whitney put his arms around Mark and held him tightly. "I'm serious when I said I love you."

"I was, too." Mark kissed his cheek. "And I'm not saying I won't be here for you. I'm just saying that, if you want to back off a little. If you don't want to tell your extended family about us, that's fine. You don't have to. I'm fine with just being introduced as your friend." He settled next to Whitney on the bed, stroking up and down his torso. Despite his embarrassment while speaking with Rebecca earlier, he was having a hard time being this close to Whitney. He wanted to feel Whitney's body moving against him again, hear those throaty moans, taste his sweat.

Bad, bad thoughts. Aunts and uncles and children were coming over.

"Yeah, but, I want to come out. I want to tell them, because I want to have you around and be able to hold your hand for support and everything. And I want them to understand how important you are to me. Hiding isn't my style, and they might be uncomfortable with it, but it's better for them to know than for them to wonder why you're always around."

Mark smiled and kissed Whitney. "Okay, then. As long as you're sure."

"I'm sure." He took the rose from Mark and touched him lightly on lips with it. "Thanks for the flower." It moved slowly up Mark's face to his ear, running over the lobe so tingles of warmth spread through his scalp and down his neck. "God, I want you."

"Yeah," Mark breathed. "I want you, too." He kissed Whitney under his jaw, opening his mouth so he could taste the skin. "How long do we have?"

"Um... forty-five minutes. About." Whitney was grasping Mark's shirt, bunching it and sliding his hands beneath it. "Except... my aunt... always gets here early."

"Okay. Clothes stay on." Mark kissed Whitney, tongue probing inside Whitney's hot, wet mouth until they were both arching against one another and gasping. "We just kiss."

"Yeah. Just kiss." Whitney's teeth sank into Mark's neck and worried the flesh. "I'm so glad to be home."

"Yeah. So am I."

Fin